Wednesday, it began. The diet. Actually day 1 was quite easy as I felt very sick most of the day, potentially due to exhaustion as I slept for 11 hours that night. It was the first day back at uni and I didn’t want to go. I woke up 45 minutes before my alarm with my stomach churning about the return. I ate about 800 calories, not because I wanted to starve myself but I could eat nothing.
Thursday, was fine. I went to the gym and dieted.
But Friday, Friday I nearly crumbled but I didn’t. It was just after lunch. I imagined myself, I could go and get cookies, chocolate, ice cream, biscuits. I could have one final binge, and tomorrow would be a new day in which I would be a new person with new motivation and new strive to be who I want to. Oh yes it made perfect sense. I had been to the GP about the bulimia and prozac that morning and as of tomorrow I’d be taking double the dose. Thus, one last binge today before the drugs start fixing me tomorrow…
NO! Snap out of it, I told myself. No, no, no. Tomorrow I’ll feel like I did today. I remembered the promise I made to myself. I imagined how I’d feel when I went to bed – sick, tired, bloated, fat, failing, pathetic. And, worse, when I woke up in the morning – lethargic, miserable, sad, hopeless – hopeless because I had failed myself. I will not fail myself. I felt rubbish for about an hour but I talked myself through it. For the first time in a long, long time I didn’t give in. It was an achievement. I felt so proud, I felt like everyone else for once.
Having got through my first cravings, I guess what I thought about was my body, my looks, my health and my sanity. I am getting somewhere and I am not looking back, not because it would hurt to do so as much as the fact I’d be terrified of falling. It’s like climbing a ladder. I can’t see the top but I am too scared to look down because I don’t know how high I am and more importantly if I’ll fall. I am scared the ladder will give way (it’s definitely an unstable one), if there is somebody at the bottom groping for my ankles to drag me back down, my hands might slip or my concentration might slack, or I’ll make the warped decision that the bottom is better than the top… I just wish I knew what it was like up there.
For the time being, I’ll keep climbing. Even if I am only three steps up out of hundreds.